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About Me

My (nick)name is Moz and this blog was originally about my travails, tribulations and (occasional) small successes while writing my Honours thesis and fighting the demons of my mental illness. Said thesis was nicknamed Frankie and this is my first blog. These days I am working on my Masters thesis, and still trying to string words together that make some sense.
My financial vices include a good cup of coffee, live music, and buying real newspapers so I can do the crossword. Unsurprisingly I love books, and am a bit obsessed with writing the perfect letter and making an even more perfect mix CD. I earn part of my living as a wedding singer in Sydney, Australia, but long term I hope to research, write and teach as an academic, and travel further than interstate. David Bowie once referred to me as 'the quintessential girl from Ipanema' - it briefly made my mother proud.

(Remember the Days of the) Old Schoolyard

One of my closest friends as an adult is a girl who used to
bully me at school. Badly.

A lot has happened in the years since we were at the same
school. I did my last four years at another place, but because our mothers have
known each other since they were at school
and are sort of friends, we kept seeing each other around, not least because
she lived close by. Our first year of uni she started dating a man who became
one of my closest friends, and she took classes with my ex, but we still had
this awkward, difficult thing going on. They eventually broke up, and I figured
that was it. Surely we wouldn’t have contact any more, our lives were too
different.

Then, almost six years ago, her older brother killed
himself, in one of the worst ways possible.

My mother called me at work to tell me. There was a message
waiting on my voicemail that I found at the end of my waitressing shift that
night, and I knew something was wrong because my mother never calls me. This left L. as the oldest child of the remaining
six children, four of whom were still in school, at the most Catholic of
Catholic schools that exist in this country.

In the haze of months that followed I tried to reach out to
her; I made an effort to invite her to gatherings of my friends, if only so she
could be with people who didn’t know the story. She never came, and as I was
falling down the rabbit hole of mental illness in earnest myself there wasn’t
much I could do. Again, I figured, we wouldn’t see each other anymore.

Not quite two years ago I had just started my final class of
my B.A. and had one foot out the door, planning on a law degree in Canberra in 2012.
It was my first morning tutorial with the mentor (little did I know what was
coming) and I was yet to meet my closest girlfriend who was also in that class.
I was at uni very early working, racing through the readings, when there was a
tap on my shoulder. It was L., she was smiling, and suddenly – SNAP! – we were
friends. After 23 years of knowing each other, and avoiding each other at
parties and gatherings, the friendship was just there. Said friendship
has been one of the greatest joys of the last few years of my life. We’re both
on the academic track (she just finished her advanced Masters in a
complementary discipline), we’re both living in the same area again, and the
mental illness that has ravaged both our lives seems to have formed this bond between
us that’s unshakeable. Plus, we’re both single. Hilariously we have the same
psychiatrist, a discovery we made only a few months ago. It’s a bizarre
experience to become friends with someone and be so close after almost a
lifetime of enmity, as you have this history, but most of isn’t good. Yet it’s amazing
how trauma can bring you together, hers and mine.* We have no curiosity about
the dreadful things that have scarred each other, it’s just understood.

On Saturday night I dressed up a little and headed out to a
bar, an unusual occurrence, for L.'s birthday drinks. I was nervous because I knew there was a good
chance of other school people being there, as well as most of her siblings who
I hadn’t seen in years. I’ve discovered if you’re trying to avoid people it’s
best to go early to these things, as most people don’t turn up for drinks until
two hours after the start time, and the trick worked well. I was coping with
chatting with new people, and caught up with an old friend from last year’s
Honours cohort who’s about to get married, I drank a few glasses of cheap yet
good red wine and laughed at two guys wearing slankets. It was nice. Ultimately
I only had to speak with one old classmate, and it was actually really great.
It was friendly, and there was even a little acknowledgement that yeah, maybe
we gave you a rough time way back when. To my great surprise, I had a good time
(it helped I left before the scary people got there). It seemed to mean a lot
to L. that I was there. I’m proud that we’ve done one better than our mothers,
and actually managed to be friends for real.

As I got myself home, reeking of cigarette smoke from the
bar, it occurred to me that when I host my 30th birthday party in a
few months’ time, L. will be there. She will also be the only person attending
who was at my rather pathetic 21st birthday lunch almost 9 years
ago. She came late, and I only invited her because she was still with that guy who
used to be one of my closest friends. I’m planning a very small dinner for September, with
just the people who really matter to me. Putting her name on a very short list
was a no brainer, I’m so lucky to have her. I also find it comforting that you
can be wrong about people, and that sometimes even the most difficult of
relationships can change on you. It’s one of the nicest surprises of growing
up.

*I still think this space is better off without me being too
explicit about my trauma (and I count myself lucky I didn't lose a sibling to suicide). I think most of you can put the pieces together
anyway.

I went to the second link and looked for onesie, were they actually wearing a shark onesie??? Oh dear!!! haha They are more like pyjamas (I was looking for the word Josh says to CJ meaning pyjamas, but I couldn't remember, it was something like jammies...)